


Worship

by torrentialTriages



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, sin - Freeform, this is gay.txt, unhealthy coping habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9116038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: five times daniel jacobi found religion in one man, in five three-sentence fics





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vlasdygoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlasdygoth/gifts).



> 1) i just straight up wrote this into the ao3 new work box in half an hour 2) worship by years and years is Such a kepcobi song  
> 3) leah if youre reading this you are too young and i am sorry just forget you ever saw this

i.

hands, rough and warm around his neck, pressing, making him see spots and lights and his vision is getting fuzzy, is- is it going white, or black, or- he can't breathe, all he can focus on is kepler's hands on his throat and his dick and the sheets against his back, in his fists, his  _throat_ , it burns and he's straining for more

kepler lets go and jacobi gasps for air, for stability against the explosion that sweeps his body, rocking into kepler's hips as the feeling dissipates into exhaustion, into cooling air into kepler falling against him on the bed, radiantly warm, fingers curling possessively into the crook of jacobi's neck.

"that was fun," jacobi croaks wryly, "let's do that again."

ii.

Jacobi's head falls against the wall with a soft  _thud_ , gasping as he digs his nails into Kepler's back. "Ah, fuck-  _God_."

"Just 'sir' is fine, Mr. Jacobi," murmurs Kepler dryly, at odds with his hips as they roll powerfully into Jacobi's, and Jacobi never gets a chance to scoff at Kepler's grandeur because he is on fire, in this dark backalley where it is just him, Kepler, and a never-ending high.

iii.

Kepler's eyes are a beautiful shade of grey, not bizarrely pale, but Jacobi is entranced by the storm clouds of Kepler's irises, framed by walnut-brown eyelashes, staring intently at him as if their mutual eye contact, their proximity, their mutual cataloging of each other's flaws and scars and those genes that combined and expressed perfectly will unlock some new emotion, a revelation. He would follow those eyes anywhere, he thinks, accepting the glass of amber liquid that Kepler is pressing into his hand and straightening the necktie Kepler had lent him and tied just half an hour before.

Maxwell scoffs loudly behind him, and he flips her off behind his back without looking away.

iv.

"What _do_ you see in him?" Maxwell asks for the fifth time, sipping her coffee as she sits on the arm of his couch, tapping away at her tablet. They sit together in the lamplight, the city nightlife out the window providing white noise for Jacobi's thoughts (how to tell her about how Kepler's touch makes him feel, how he inspires galaxies within Jacobi, how he makes Jacobi want to throw away his name and body to chase that thread of ecstasy, healthy coping habits be damned, oh, how to express all of this to  _Maxwell,_  he thinks she'll never understand).

"I'd die for him," Jacobi says simply, and Maxwell raises her eyebrows incrementally and sighs.

v.

"I can't stay quiet like this," breathes Jacobi, laugh breaking as it meets the tiled bathroom wall, Kepler sucking marks on Jacobi's neck, hands busy getting rid of Jacobi's black dress shirt, one leg thrust aggressively between Jacobi's thighs.

"Then don't," Kepler growls into his collarbone, practically tearing Jacobi's tie off of him, and Jacobi whimpers, laughing again, disbelieving.

" _Daniel,_ " Kepler hisses, canting his hips into Jacobi's, and Jacobi's laugh turns into a drunken sob of a moan, a prayer, as he threads his hands into Kepler's short hair and thinks  _I would kill for you to say my name again._


End file.
